


fair weather come again

by dizzy



Series: in the half light [6]
Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-14
Updated: 2019-03-14
Packaged: 2019-11-17 18:02:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18103619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dizzy/pseuds/dizzy
Summary: A spring thunderstorm.





	fair weather come again

The rain starts halfway through their walk from their little home to the bigger house, where their family lives. The spring storm has been brewing all day, a forced break in the sort of tasks and chores they've been busy with now that things are growing green and bright again. 

There are no warning drops. There's only a crack of thunder so ominous, then the clouds that have cast their dreary shadows over the whole day alight with electricity a moment later. 

Then just -

Rain. 

Dan grabs Phil's hand and they run. 

*

The house smells like warm bread. 

Kathryn must be baking again. Dan draws in a deep breath and lets it fill his lungs, lets it curl over his shivering skin. He's glad the door was unlocked. He's more glad that he can already feel the heat from the fireplace in the sitting room. He wants to find it and burrow in front of it like a cat. 

"That smells amazing." Phil moans, then shouts out, "Mum?" 

It's not his mother that pops her head in, but Dan's. "Well, what sort of drowned rats have shown up on our doorstep today? No, don't move - you'll just track water in. Let me get some towels." 

Phil huddles in to Dan, like Dan can offer any sort of warmth or reprieve from what they just stepped out of. He can't, of course, but he still wraps a wet arm around Phil and hugs him in close. 

Dan presses a kiss to Phil's temple and then whispers, "I'm so hungry I'm actually considering eating you." 

Phil giggles. "Not if I eat you first." 

*

Karen comes back with oversized towels and clothes for both of them. Dan's not sure who they belong to - they might even be his own, left here after a long day of working. They often shower at the big house, since the water here takes less time to warm and Dan still loves his creature comforts. 

Today they settle for changing in the guest room that's unofficially, but often, their space to claim. 

"I can't believe we were gonna miss soup day," Phil laments. "Mum is supposed to tell me when it's soup day!" 

They'd spent half the morning arguing the merits of staying in all day to try and avoid being caught in the storm, at odds with the knowledge that there would be warm food here that they didn't have to prepare themselves, and good company. 

They're plenty good enough company for each other, but food always tips the scales.

*

"Can you believe that storm outside?" Nigel says, hovering in the doorway of the kitchen. 

Phil's in there with them, probably pestering his mum for a slice of bread and some butter to put on it. Dan would very much like some, but his bones don't seem to be working. The fire is every bit as luxurious as he'd thought and he can feel himself finally warming up as he lays on his back on the floor in front of it, a pillow from the sofa under his head. 

His fingers fidget. He still feels like he should have his phone sometimes, sense memory embedded in his brain. But his phone is back at the house because he won't risk it in the rain, and it wouldn't serve as much of a distraction anyway. 

He really misses the internet sometimes. 

But there's nothing to be done about that so he shuts his eyes and lets his mind wander some place peaceful as the flames dance colors against the dark of his vision. 

*

They both eat too much stew and too many slices of warm, home baked bread. 

It's perfect rainy day food. Afterwards, dozen or so people in the house scatter to their various corners. Phil's grandparents lived here once, and Dan can't imagine what they must have done with all the space when it was only the two of them. 

There's plenty of life in these walls now, though. 

He helps Kath do some of the washing up, taking on the role of chief rinser and making quiet casual conversation until Phil steps up behind him and wraps his arms around Dan's waist. He rests his head between Dan's shoulderblades and Dan has to swallow back something painfully fond. "Lazy tyke," Kath says, poking at him verbally and also physically with a single fingertip digging into his side. "Leaving your husband here to do the work." 

"Mum!" Phil protests. "We're not even married." 

She gives him a look that says she doesn't put much stock in that. 

Dan likes it. He likes having passed from a state of potential to be to a state of perceived being without needing any purposeful action on his behalf. He likes how it makes him feel noticed, validated, cemented into Phil's life. It's not something he's got a single doubt about, but sometimes hearing things are nice even when you already know they're true.  
*

The main sitting room is packed with people now, three sofas full of warm laughing bodies while music plays. There’s a board game happening on the floor and none of the drizzle of outside has infected the mood in the room. 

Save for Dan, but it’s not in a bad way. The rain just takes his mind to a thoughtful place, caught somewhere just shy of real apprehension. Storms are scary but rain is soothing and both are inarguable truths to him. 

There’s nothing to be scared of when they’re all gathered around and laughter is all he can hear. In this room he can pretend that when he closes his eyes he doesn’t still see England, both before and after. 

They’re all trying to forget. Just like Dan and the rain, it’s two truths happening side by side; the happiness isn’t less real because of the sadness each person here still holds in their heart. 

“Hey,” Phil whispers, leaning into Dan. His shoulder digs uncomfortably into the bone. 

Dan likes it. Affection is free here. No one gives a fuck. 

“Yeah?” He whispers back. 

He feels warmth against his fingers, Phil’s hand seeking his out. “Let’s go somewhere quieter.” 

*

Dan doesn’t go up to the third floor often. There’s no reason - he just doesn’t have much cause two. There are a couple of closed doors, bedrooms he’s never been in, the entrance to the attic - and a big bay window, the same one he sees from the outside looking in every time he glances at the house. 

That’s where Phil leads him, pilfered quilt clutched in his hands. They don’t need anything else; it’s already littered with cushions. Phil kneels and crawls onto it easily, pushing some of the cushions out of the way so both of their bodies will fit. “I knew this would be perfect.” 

“It is,” Dan says. He feels drenched in contentment already, tucking his body alongside Phil’s and pulling the quilt up over them. 

If it were just a bit bigger, Dan thinks he might want to sleep here. But their legs are too long to stretch out completely and the windows angle in such a way that they couldn't really lay side by side. 

"Did you ever sleep here as a kid?" Dan asks. "I think I'd have lived here if my nan had a window like this. Or a view like this." 

"I don't think I ever slept here," Phil says. "It scared me. Martyn told me if I got too close to the windows they might fall out." 

Dan smiles ruefully. "Older brothers." 

There's a moment; one of those moments that gets stuck in their throats sometimes. Once in a while they let it take over, let it take hold. Today they don't. They acknowledge it and then pass it by, an agreement of action obvious in the way Phil curls his arm around Dan's waist and Dan grips tight to Phil's shoulders. 

Outside, the rain keeps on. 

*

"You'll stay the night, I hope?" Kathryn asks. 

They've unwound themselves from their bay window and come down stairs in search of something sweet.

They're not disappointed, a thick slice of spice cake in front of each of them now. Phil will probably go back for seconds, or finish Dan's if Dan appears to linger for too long. 

"Yeah," Phil says, without needing to consult Dan. "The path will be too muddy and dark by now, anyway." 

Dan's not sad about it. He likes their privacy, their tiny little respite from the strange new world they're living in. But the more gray things are outside the more he wants the brightness of the people around him to keep his own shadows at bay. 

He finishes half his cake then leaves it to Phil, and goes to find his own mum. 

*

She's sat in the lounge with her legs curled under her and a book on her lap. Her feet are bare, slippers cast aside by the side of the sofa, and her hair is pulled back and graying in streaks. 

He's not sure when she decided to let the color go. He doesn't like that it makes her look older. 

She looks up at him and smiles, then pats the sofa cushion beside her. "Come have a seat. It's warm." 

There's a fireplace going in front of her, too. It feels nice and he does sit, uncomfortably rigid for a moment before she reaches out to stroke his hair. 

Physical affection isn't something that's always come easily to either of them once he grew out of being a child. He thinks that it might be important now, though. It might be something he needs, and it might be something she needs even more. It might be the one thing he can give her when she's lost so much. 

He rests his head on her shoulder. Her fingers keep petting his hair and she kisses his temple in almost the same place that Dan had kissed Phil's earlier. It's strange how the same touch can mean such different things depending on who it's coming from. 

"You're staying the night?" She asks, the same conversation Phil and his own mum just had mirrored back. 

"Yeah," Dan says. Unlike Phil, he doesn't feel the need to offer extra words. 

"Good." She kisses his temple again, then relaxes her grip. He knows he could move away now and she wouldn't be offended, but she smells nice and familiar and the fire is warm and his eyes grow heavy again. 

*

Phil finds him asleep with his head still on her shoulder an hour later. She's probably got an arm that's gone numb but she's made it another third of the way through her book and she hasn't complained. 

Dan still feels sheepish as he rubs his eyes and mumbles an apology. 

"None needed," she says. 

She looks happy. 

Dan isn't sure what else to say, so he looks to the window. "When did the storm stop?" 

*

They sleep to the soundtrack of a lighter kind of rain tapping against the windows. 

Once it rises, the sun will start the busy task of soaking up the drew from the grass and stealing its moisture back from the dirt. The ocean won't slam quote so angrily against the shore. 

Their world, so narrowed down now to this little patch of land, will pick itself up and dry itself off, ready for them again.


End file.
